


stay lost on our way home

by JustMcShane



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: 5 Things, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Friendship, Gen, Hugs, Post-Magic Reveal, Self-Indulgent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-18
Updated: 2019-08-18
Packaged: 2020-09-06 18:58:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,470
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20296381
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JustMcShane/pseuds/JustMcShane
Summary: Five moments on the journey back to Camelot, after.





	stay lost on our way home

**Author's Note:**

> I've been watching Merlin for the first time for the last few months, and have been adamantly refusing to get anywhere near the fandom until I've finished it in its entirety - I've actually been planning to dive face-first into the fic archives the moment I watch that last episode. My friend convinced me to write something before I did so, because she was curious to see what I'd come up with without the influence of seeing what sort of stuff other people tend to write. Although I can't confirm it just yet, I don't think I'm being very original with this, but nonetheless - post-hypothetical-reveal fic time.
> 
> Additionally, this was all written before I watched the actual reveal. So there's that. Let's just say S5 didn't happen.

1.

* * *

Later that night, when he's leaning against a tree in the middle of some dark forest, and their horses are tied to a few nearby trees, and Merlin's carefully constructing a campfire with the same amount of concentration that you'd usually only maintain for cutting a priceless gem or preparing to loose a razor-precise arrow, Arthur wonders how Merlin had ever managed to hide it. And then, he watches Merlin for a few seconds longer, and wonders how he had ever _missed _it. Every spare moment he's had since it all ended, he's been running back years worth of memories and interactions in his head, trying to pinpoint every secret, every meaningful circumstance that's got entirely over his head. He can't seem to get a grasp on a single one. This version of Merlin doesn't fit with the one he's got in his head, not at all. It's almost completely inconceivable that clumsy, thick, but ultimately well-intentioned Merlin, loyal servant and apprentice physician - literally the last person you'd ever want keeping a secret for you - could have managed to hide a secret of this magnitude for so long. And yet -

Merlin looks up, apparently notices the fact that Arthur's been studying him intently for a while now - not stare, Arthur doesn't _stare -_ and he ducks his head, obviously uncomfortable, and goes back to trying to get the fire to light.

"Are you going to be quiet like this for the rest of the trip home?" Arthur asks, breaking the fragile silence that's been held between them for several hours now. "The silence was nice at first, admittedly, but I can tell it's going to get, well, _boring, _quick."

"What do you want me to say?" Merlin's voice is surprisingly quiet - defeated, almost, with none of the bite or clipped tone that Arthur had expected. He just sounds tired. Reasonable enough, with the day they've had, but -

"Nothing. Anything." Arthur sighs, leans forward. "Come on. Talk to me."

"Nope," says Merlin after a moment of hesitation, and then back to the fire it is - well, non-existent fire, anyway. His face is soft with shadows and he somehow looks very young and far too old, all at once.

Arthur closes his eyes against the darkness and the faintly murmuring wind through the trees, and lets out another sigh. He hears Merlin catch his fingers on whatever he's using to try to start the fire and curse under his breath, and then there's a soft thump as he apparently throws it aside. And then silence.

He opens his eyes, barely a crack, just in time to see Merlin's hesitant glance up in his direction, and then over his shoulder and around him, before he leans inwards the the pile of wood scraps almost conspiratorially. He raises his hand, and mutters something in a language that Arthur can't ever hope to understand - a language that, even so feather-soft, makes his skin prickle and his hair stand on end. He opens his eyes properly, and watches in - well, fascination's not the word, because despite everything, there's a part of him that still believes that magic is not to be trusted under any circumstances. Wariness is ever-present, and there may be some amount of fear involved - but nonetheless, seeing Merlin's eyes glow golden-yellow like they've been drenched in pure sunlight is something uniquely special, and there's another part of him altogether that wants to wrap that singular moment up in cloth and tuck it away and never let it go. Seeing the wood catch on fire, roaring up into light within two seconds flat, sparks an entirely different emotion within him, and it's not a good one, so he actively tries to stop thinking about that.

Magicking fire into existence must be far easier than fiddling around with wood and failure-prone instruments, he thinks, and then he wonders how many times Merlin's conjured up flame with whispered words behind his back on other late-night adventures.

Merlin's warming his hands by the fire with a small upwards quirk to his mouth - barely enough to be considered a smile - but when he looks over at Arthur and sees that, once again, he's being watched, that little quirk fades, and he looks - well. _Afraid. _Afraid of _Arthur. _Which just isn't a thing that should happen any under normal circumstances - but then again, these aren't normal circumstances, are they?

Arthur pauses, trying to think of something to say, but can't come up with anything. Instead, he forces a smile - and hopes to god it looks genuine, because he so desperately wants it to be - nods, and leans back against the tree. He closes his eyes again, and feigns sleep, because it's by far the easiest thing to do.

* * *

2.

* * *

There are bandits, because of course there are. It's more or less impossible to get back to Camelot without encountering some form of attacker in the final stretch - despite how hard Arthur's endeavored to rid the land of that particular type of bloodthirsty pest, they just keep springing back up again, like an unwanted, scruffy-looking weed. Encountering and dispatching them is almost a relaxing exercise at this point - the familiar motions of sliding off his horse and drawing his sword in one swift motion coming to him as easily as breathing. What's unfamiliar is Merlin's reaction.

Arthur doesn't tend to pay all that much attention to Merlin in battle, unless something really unusual's happening - he trusts that his servant's intelligent enough to keep out of any major danger, or, failing that, at least that he can get out of it. But he's sure he's never seen him charging headfirst into the fray like this - ducking neatly under swords, twirling out of the way of blows swiped his way like he's a _dancer. _

Arthur's fending off two men at once, and is just on the verge of yelling something like, 'what are you doing, you absolute _idiot_', when Merlin draws in a deep breath, and yells something in that spine-tingling language, and Arthur has just about enough time to think, _oh, right, he can do magic, _before literally every person within a few feet of Merlin is blasted off their feet and sent flying to crash into either some trees or the ground, or in the case of one unlucky man, a rather unforgiving-looking rock. Merlin's left standing at the center of it, a faint grin on his face; the epicenter of the world's most specific explosion.

Although he honestly wants to stop and stare at this display of power, Arthur doesn't have the time to. He finishes off the man on his left with a well-placed strike to the knees, and elbows the man on his left in the head, sending him neatly to the ground. He takes a deep breath, and then calls, "are you going to stand there grinning like a lunatic all day, or are you going to help me take care of the rest of them?"

Merlin starts like he's just been caught napping on the job, and swings around, looking determined. He yells out, pointing, and Arthur whirls on instinct to catch the bandit who had been attempting to sneak up behind him, and bring his sword up to meet the fatal-looking blow. Three clashes of their swords, and the bandit's hair catches fire, rather spectacularly. It's the work of seconds to fell him, after that, and it takes even less time to move onto the next, and the next. It's the easiest thing in the world to fall into sync, fighting alongside Merlin's magic. Maybe that should be terrifying, but it isn't. They work well together - even better, now that Merlin doesn't need to hide the fact that he's helping. All in all, it's the work of less than five minutes to bring the full group to their metaphorical and literal knees, and Arthur's just disarming a particularly knife-happy specimen when he hears what's going on just across the clearing.

"You're a _sorcerer,_" the last remaining bandit is accusing Merlin, and when Arthur turns to look, he's taking a step backwards - genuinely threatened by Merlin's presence. Arthur, weirdly, feels extraordinarily proud of him for some reason.

"Oh, very good," Merlin says, "did the fire and explosions and general destruction tip you off, or was it something else?"

"Magic is illegal in Camelot," says the man. "Even if you end me here, you're not going to last long around here. They'll hunt you down like a dog, my boy - with power like that, it's a wonder they haven't got you already."

A flash of something goes across Merlin's face. It's more of that fear from before, and it's that one moment of insecurity that allows the bandit to get the upper hand, to snake an arm out, and get the dagger against his throat so he can barely struggle at all.

"I don't think so," says Arthur. He knows, of course, that Merlin can easily get out of this situation, but years of situations like this one have trained him to react on instinct and step in before anything can escalate any further. He sees Merlin pause on the verge of saying something that he's almost sure is an incantation, and eye him silently, and he's not quite certain what to make of that. "I'd advise you to let go of my friend," he says.

The bandit does not follow Arthur's advice.

Arthur decides to let his sword do the talking, and has the blade halfway to the bandit's own neck before he registers properly why that's such a bad idea. The bandit's hand begins to move, and Arthur has a sudden sick swoop of panic in his chest - he isn't entirely certain, but he's pretty sure that as powerful as magic is, it can't heal a slit throat quicker than it takes a person to bleed out - but then Merlin says something under his breath, and his eyes go sunbeam-golden again, and then the bandit is letting go of him like he's been electrified, and Arthur's got his sword at his neck.

"That was an extraordinarily bad idea," he says, steely calm.

"But he's a sorcerer," says the bandit, eyes wide and desperate.

"Correct," says Arthur. "And I'm the _king_."

He swings his sword. Unlike the bandit with his dagger, he doesn't miss.

* * *

3.

* * *

And then the dragon shows up.

Arthur's immediate reaction to the giant scaly fire-breathing lizard larger than any other living creature he's ever seen in his life, swooping down from the sky and clearly heading _right for them _is to draw his sword, take up a defensive stance, and yell at Merlin to run to safety. Because it doesn't matter how good you are with a sword or a spell, there's not a lot that you can do against a dragon - a whole entire carnage-bent dragon right in your face.

_Merlin's _immediate reaction to the giant scaly fire-breathing lizard swooping right at them, apparently, is to run right towards it. Arthur doesn't know whether to laugh or scream.

"Stand down _stand down_ do _not_ hurt him," Merlin is yelling.

The dragon hits the ground, large claws carving sharp lines in the grassy clearing, and ruffles its wings as it stalks forwards a few steps in Merlin's direction, then stops.. It makes a rumbling noise, which Arthur interprets as an _about-to-start-breathing-fire _noise, and he starts thinking about ways to get Merlin out of the way immediately.

"I had no intention of doing so," it says, instead of blasting deadly fire in their direction.

The first thing that Arthur has to get past here is the fact that _dragons can talk apparently _which is a pretty big fact, so it takes him a few seconds. The second thing he needs to wrap his mind around is the fact that - the dragon seems... amused?

"I have no intention whatsoever of hurting our beloved Once and Future King," it concludes, and tilts its head at Merlin. "I believe you have something to tell me...?"

"I told him," Merlin says. "Or - he found out. It happened. He knows. And -" he grins, suddenly. "And I'm still here."

The dragon laughs properly, now. It's a full-body laugh, delighted and loud, and it's really quite strange to see because it's a remarkably human emotion on such an inhuman-looking animal. "I had guessed as much. Well _done,_ Merlin."

Arthur looks between the two of them - the young man and the dragon, regarding each other with some sort of deep, unreadable understanding - somewhat warily, and comes to a conclusion. "You know each other," he says suddenly.

"You could say that," says the dragon. Its voice is like thunder - deep and cavernous and sweeping through the entire space around them. That amusement is still there.

"_How _\- no, don't tell me. You were conspiring under the castle from the very beginning, weren't you." He's only half-serious, really, but then Merlin gives a reluctant tiny nod and he just - "all right, do you have any more revelations you want to drop on me right now, or would you like to wait for your _other _secret dragon friend to turn up before that happens?"

Merlin's eyes sparkle. Not in a magic way, just in a Merlin way. "No more dragons," he says, and looks up at the aforementioned secret dragon friend. "Just this one. Why did you come?"

"I heard your call for help," the dragon tells Merlin gravely. "And you must believe me when I tell you this: I could not be more sorry that I was unable to come to your aid."

Merlin breathes out. "I know," he says, amusement gone.

"Truly," the dragon says. "If there were any way that I could have entered -"

Merlin just sighs again and shakes his head. "Morgana covered all her bases. It wasn't your fault, and - you would've just gotten yourself hurt, in the end. It was better this way."

"Hmm. I am, unfortunately, inclined to agree, although..." The dragon's nostrils flare. "Is that blood I smell?"

"Well, us humans tend to be full of it," says Merlin. "Most living creatures, really."

The dragon then proceeds to give Merlin a very pointed look that would not be out of place coming from Gaius. Stern. _I'm-not-in-the-mood-for-any-of-your-nonsense._

"Fine, _fine, _I'm - " Merlin indicates an arm, his non-dominant arm. "I got lightly stabbed."

"You got _stabbed,_" Arthur says, already sheathing his sword and grabbing the arm to hold it in place so he can look at it properly.

"Only lightly," he protests, squirming in Arthur's grip. "I cauterized it, it should be - look, who's the physician, you or me?"

"Gaius, and he's not here," says Arthur, pulling back Merlin's sleeve, and examining it. He's right - the wound has been seared shut, but it's not pretty. At first he can't even begin to image how Merlin had managed to fight before without letting on that he was hurt in this way, but then he remembers how long Merlin had been sitting on another, larger secret, and it really does make some amount of sense.

"I will take my leave now," the dragon says, slightly startling Arthur who had somehow almost forgotten about its presence. "You appear to be in good hands, young warlock."

"Debatable," says Merlin, still being held in place by Arthur's firm hand.

Another one of those strange dragon-laughs. "I will see you soon."

Merlin raises his other hand, waves as the dragon takes a step back, unfurls its wings, lifts off into the air with great, heaving flaps.

"There's no chance you're going to leave me alone about this, is there?," Merlin says, a few moments after it's gone, which doesn't even warrant a response because of how obvious the answer is.

* * *

4.

* * *

Two days away from Camelot, they just about bump into a search party. A search party made up of just about every knight of Camelot, as it turns out, and the knights are as delighted to see Arthur and Merlin as they are to see them. There's a lot of friendly claps-on-backs and laughter and offhanded messing around for a few minutes, and then Percival asks about what, exactly, happened after Morgana took them, and Arthur explains. He leaves out one or two key details, of course. How _exactly _Morgana had died, in the end. The exact nature of the way they had broken out of the magical trap that had been that awful castle of hers. There's inconsistencies, though. Arthur's not really accustomed to making things up on the spot like this, and so he tends to skim over the - Merlin-related bits, and hope they don't notice. At least some of the knights do, though, because as soon as Arthur's finished, Gwaine is picking it all apart like he's got a fine-toothed comb and doing so is his sacred duty.

"So the castle just collapsed," he presses. "Just like that?"

"Just like that," Arthur reiterates firmly, and considers briefly pulling rank, getting them all to stop asking until he's come up with something more convincing to say. But the immense force of the mighty sigh that Merlin gives - he's been listening to this unskilled improvisation for the last few minutes with a pained expression on his face - could probably knock Camelot over, or at the very least, the Citadel.

"No," he says. He seems to hesitate for a long moment, before taking a step forwards. "I... there's something I need to tell you," he says.

"Merlin," Arthur says quietly, not taking his eyes off him but not taking a step forwards, either. "You don't need to. It's fine. You're fine -"

"No -" He takes a deep, deep breath, and then straightens up properly. "I've wanted to do this for a while."

And then he's silent. For longer than entirely necessary. He seems to be working up the courage to try to say it, but can't seem to come up with the words.

"You're beginning to scare us a bit, Merlin," says Gwaine with a friendly half-smile. "Whatever it is, I'm sure you -"

Merlin sets his hands on fire.

Gwaine shrieks and drops his sword, recoiling backwards - not exactly in fright or terror, but just in plain, simple shock. It's actually really quite funny. What's not as funny is the fact that half of the remaining knights immediately have their weapons drawn on Merlin, eyeing him with wariness and suspicion.

Merlin just closes his eyes, and stands there in the middle of a circle of raised swords, unmoving. He doesn't put out the flames dancing in his hands, nor does he make any move to defend himself. "So, I'm a warlock," he says. He sounds kind of resigned.

Nobody moves. Nobody so much as speaks. The knights that haven't drawn their swords on Merlin - Elyan, Leon, and of course Gwaine, among them - don't seem angry, just puzzled.

"What the _hell _are you doing?" Arthur snaps, breaking the silence. He steps forwards now so he's side-by-side with Merlin - so that the swords are being pointed in his direction, too. He's genuinely enraged, even though he can understand, on some level why they're doing this. "This is our _friend_. He's done nothing to provoke you in the least - and you're threatening him?"

"Sire, he's a sorcerer," Percival says. He gestures abstractly with his free hand. "He's got - there's fire -"

"Yes," says Arthur with utmost patience, "_yes, _I had noticed; thank you." He casts a sideways glance at Merlin. The flames are still cupped in both of his hands, and the light is reflected in his eyes. "Put those out, Merlin, before you hurt yourself," he adds, offhandedly. "Or set the entire forest alight, knowing you."

Merlin grimaces exaggeratedly at him, and it feels refreshingly familiar, and then he closes his hands, extinguishing the lights.

"I actually can't burn myself," he says, after a pregnant pause in which nobody knows what to say. "Not with my magic, I mean. I can still get burnt by anything else - unless I stop it somehow, I suppose - but..." His brief moment of rambling trails off into nothingness, and then, pointedly: "I know how to set fire to my hands safely, you know."

"That's handy," says Gwaine, shock still evident on his face, and then he laughs suddenly. "Lord almighty, Merlin - _how long?_"

"Uhhm," goes Merlin. "My whole life? If you're asking how long I've had magic, that is."

"And you kept it from us," Elyan says. "_All of us. _This whole time."

"Lancelot knew," Merlin offers.

This is a fact that Arthur did not know. Some part of him immediately starts reviewing any and all memories involving Lancelot and Merlin interacting, trying to see where the magic revelation can fill in any gaps. The rest of him is just silent and ready, waiting for everyone else to react - waiting to step in.

And then Gwaine leans over and scoops up his sword with one hand, and Arthur does not miss Merlin's tiny, almost imperceptible flinch at the motion, but he doesn't say anything - not then, and not later. But all Gwaine does is sheathe it at his belt, and then come over to Merlin, and clasp him firmly on the shoulder, before drawing him into a tight hug. Merlin makes a startled noise, and then his hands come up across the back of Gwaine's armor and he's clinging to him like he's drowning.

"And if any of you have a problem with him," Gwaine adds loudly but calmly, as he steps back from the embrace, "you by extension also have a problem with _me, _and trust me - I'm not a problem any of you wants to have."

There's a moment of complete silence.

And then Merlin is basically swallowed into a chaotic swarm of knights. Not all of them go so far as to hug him - some just ruffle his hair or pound him heartily on his back.

Arthur relaxes.

It's fine. Everything's fine.

* * *

5.

* * *

Gwen's waiting to greet them when they arrive back in Camelot - dirty, exhausted, and very hungry for proper, actual food that hasn't been scavenged from bushes and from meagre hunting expeditions. She comes up to Arthur as he dismounts the borrowed horse he's been riding at an elegant speedwalk, sweeps him into a quick kiss, then withdraws. She looks between the two of them, and seems to notice the difference in the way they're holding themselves. "What on earth happened to you two out there?"

"...it's a long story," is all Arthur can say.

"No, it's," Merlin sighs, "it's a pretty short one, actually."

Gwen eyes him. "Oh?"

There's a pause.

"I'm a warlock, Gwen," Merlin says, tension in every part of his body. (Apparently, admitting it doesn't get easier after doing it several times. He looks just as defensive and terrified as he had admitting to Arthur, to the other knights - although he hadn't had a hint of this terror when facing down the bandits, Arthur notes to himself.)

Gwen's mouth opens, and shuts, and she blinks. A million thoughts seem to be running through her head at once. And then - finally - she shrugs. She just shrugs.

"Yeah," she says, "that makes sense."

Merlin splutters. "But - wait - I - hey!"

Merlin looks so outright indignant that Gwen's apparently just taking this in her stride that Arthur can't help but laugh, even though he had been actively trying to keep himself from doing that. Gwen's got that little amused smile of hers now too. Merlin turns back and forth, seemingly unable to decide which of them to focus on. "But - I kept it a secret. _Arthur _didn't notice."

"Merlin," says Gwen with utmost patience, "Arthur couldn't notice the moon was missing - and I mean this with the most amount of love humanly possible, stop looking at me like that - he wouldn't notice if the moon was missing until somebody pointed it out to him, if he really didn't want to know about it. And maybe not even then. And - don't give me that look, you know I'm right, Arthur - it's very hard to find something that you're not looking for in the first place."

Arthur sighs, grudgingly concedes the point.

"You've been protecting him this whole time, yes?" Gwen says. "Protecting us - protecting everyone."

"I've been _trying,_" Merlin says with a weak little smile.

"And obviously succeeding," Gwaine chimes in from behind all of them, because apparently all the knight have been listening in despite the fact that it was supposed to be a private invitation-only conversation. Arthur doesn't know what he expected, really. "We're all still here, clearly."

"Precisely," Gwen says. "So. Merlin, you've been doing an _exceptional _job. Thank you."

He blinks once, twice, and then a relieved grin spreads across his face like sunlight exploding through a dark clearing. "You have absolutely no idea how long I've been waiting for someone to tell me that," he says seriously.

"I can only imagine," says Gwen. Her voice is fond. "Come here."

Merlin cautiously approaches. Gwen sighs, steps forward, folds him into a hug. This one is more immediately reciprocated. For a moment, it's not a queen and a servant hugging, it's just two very close and very relieved friends expressing their gratitude for each other - which is exactly how it should be, really.

Arthur closes his eyes, and finally lets himself breathe properly.

* * *

+1

* * *

The day after the law has officially gone through and it's fine - it's allowed, it's _safe - _to use magic in Camelot, Merlin goes out into the castle courtyard as soon as the sun breaks over the horizon, and starts conjuring light and flames and multicolored bubbles - whatever he can manage - to the initial apprehension and fear of people passing by, and to the absolute delight of the children that come out to see what's going on. Arthur only knows this because of the noise from the courtyard below that wakes him up. He looks out the window, and sees sparks of light drifting up on the breeze from through his window, and he just sighs. 

"I can do magic," comes the exuberant yell. There are popping crackles, and then the sound of children laughing, immediately followed by Merlin's own laughter and then a massive _whoosh _as a column of multicolored smoke shoots up past Arthur's window. "_I can do magic!_"

"Yes, I _know_," Arthur groans and rolls over, pulling a pillow over his head. "For the love of god, somebody please shut him up."

Gwen laughs next to him, a full-body shake like a dragon's chuckle that he can feel vibrate pleasantly against his skin. "Let him have his moment."

"At the crack of dawn? He should pick another moment," says Arthur, but he doesn't make a move to get up out of bed, and Gwen curls into him and they both close their eyes and listen as the sound of Merlin's joy fills up the castle walls like liquid happiness.

**Author's Note:**

> EDIT: watched the last episode. i infinitely prefer my version, although i do think it's rather funny that i halfway predicted the campfire scene. into the rest of the archive i gooooooooooooooo


End file.
